#inter; joseph

[misshcrror]

            𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑: ──── YASEMIN's dynamics ;

Finalmente, Yasemin chegou a um ponto onde não podia mais negar seus sentimentos, tanto para si mesma quanto para os outros. A vida é curta demais para para se limitar e viver com receios. Joseph a fazia sentir-se viva, mesmo em meio ao caos de suas vidas como semideuses no acampamento naquele momento. Desde o momento que desistiu da caçada. Por mais complicado que fosse, por mais bagunçada que ela se sentisse, a vida ao lado dele valia os desafios. Finalmente, ela havia deixado de lado o medo e abraçado o amor, sabendo que era o passo mais corajoso que podia dar naquele momento. Yasemin Solak agora tinha Joseph Barker como seu namorado.

I JUST WANTED TO BE YOURS and now i'm yours, @d4rkwater.

[sportyspectra09]

Major League Soccer market values: Lionel Messi down to 2nd place - Hirving Lozano drops by €2m

801 updates  ©TM/IMAGO In Inter Miami CF, the Seattle Sounders, and Los Angeles FC, three Major League Soccer clubs will participate in this summer’s FIFA Club World Cup. With the tournament in mind, Transfermarkt has updated the market values of 801 players playing in MLS, and there has been a significant change at the top. The league’s biggest star, Lionel Messi, no longer shares first place…

[spudcity]

Stars of the Trees and Ponds

O blue and nerveless stars. The night and the distance of the lake. The lake: mosquitoes, the uni-inter air—the pond of towering mosquitoes we float through. Float: the tents as we use the lumpy earth under a blanket. Cars: the

blanket of cars facing your vision of stars and thoughts never concealed to the lake. Conceal: Thoughts are never hidden, the mosquito cries to the lake. And brings the lake’s invisible man

Invisible: a woman rises into the lake and out of the lake Pond: you are left in the tent and see the beige pond. Leak: a woman stands over you. Woman: the pond leaks. You hear it.

– Joseph Ceravolo

[townpostin]

Kasidih High School Hosts FOTOGRAFÍA 2024, Celebrates World Photography Day

KHS Photography Club’s second inter-school contest showcases young visual talent; 18 schools participate. In celebration of World Photography Day, Kasidih High School’s Photography Club successfully organized the second edition of their inter-school photography contest, FOTOGRAFÍA 2024 – The Second Shot! JAMSHEDPUR – Kasidih High School’s Photography Club, under the guidance of Miss Shania…

[atthecenterofeverything]

on degeneration theory

due to the amount of discussions regarding degeneration theory, i wanted to lay out some of its basic arguments and compile some quotes by the main proponents of this theory (including the founder of its concept, the french psychiatrist bénédict morel), with a focus on its context (the second half of the 19th century in france) to better understand its workings.

warning: as might be expected, violent eugenics, racism, ableism, and extermination rhetoric as expressed explicitly by its theorists under the cut. all quotes originally in french (except nordau), all translations mine.

degeneration theory speaks of a biological basis to physical and mental inferiority. this biological basis can be and is exacerbated by one's ancestors' habits, diseases, environment, or eating and drinking patterns, as well as by new technologies and social changes occurring, and is then transmitted to the offspring in a degenerating process.

Some diseases, some intoxications, some habits among parents are capable of producing among their offsprings a constitutive state, a particular organistic state that can then be transmitted indefinitely until extinction of the race.

Bénédict-Augustin Morel (1809-1873), as quoted by Philippe Buchez in “Rapport sur le traité des dégénérescences mentales du Dr. B. A. Morel” dans Annales médico-psychologiques, 1857.

this basis constitutes a predisposition that makes one more likely to succumb to madness and weakens one's will to resist to passions (paranoia, insanity, hedonism, revolutionary ideas, etc.).

Degeneration is the pathological state of the being which, in comparison to his more direct ancestors, has his psycho-physical resistance constitutionally weakened, and which can not realize the biological conditions necessary for the hereditary struggle for life. This weakening process translates through permanent stigmatas and is essentially progressive, except in the case of inter-current regeneration; in the absence of the latter, the process results, faster or slower, in the race being annihilated.

Valentin Magnan (1835-1916), as quoted by Jacques Postel et Claude Quétel in Nouvelle histoire de la psychiatrie, 2012.

the degree of responsibility retained by the individual and the measures thought capable of resisting this process vary among degeneration theorists in significant ways. some thought reeducation possible and some did not.

Education does not and cannot have any effect on potential, dispositions, or the innate activity of intellectual, moral, and affective faculties, (because) psycho-cerebral vitality is essentially inborn. (Workers) are individuals originally vitiated by intellectual, moral, and affective defects, which are more or less hidden; the reason they are not educated is that they show reluctance to it.

Jacques-Joseph Moreau de Tours (1804-1884), La psychologique morbide dans ses rapports avec la philosophie de l'histoire ou de l'influence des névropathies sur le dynamisme intellectuel, 1859

this leads to circular logic: only degenerated individuals could act thus, which proves they are degenerated, and so is their behavior. the interdiction of homosexuality, communard activity, prostitution or alcohol, as well as a general dissatisfaction with the state of one's life or with the world, were thus often pathologized.

Great revolutionary moments only enthuse and lead to madness those who are predisposed to it, and who would probably have turned to insanity about other causes as well.

Louis-Victor Marcé (1828-1864), as quoted by Valentin Magnan in Annales médico-pyschologiques, 1857.

through this process, the general national (and racial) stock is weakened, thus expanding to the rest of the population if not prevented by eugenistic efforts (leading to Regeneration), explicitly framed as a hygienist and medical endeavor. this aimed to legitimate the social order of the french third republic by entrenching the position of the white bourgeois citizen as the rational subject (often implying that god created man as a perfect creation, who is then slowly corrupted by terrestrial influences), against among others disabled, non-white and/or working-class subjects. this also lead to the concept of "degenerate art" as used by nazis.

What happens to an individual can also occur for a group of individuals, and even spread to an entire society, to almost an entire people. (They thus form) a collective of organisms, equipped, so to speak, with their respective predispositions, united and acting on the same scene of social and political affairs.

Jean-Baptiste Vincent Laborde (1830-1903), Les hommes et les actes de l'insurrection de Paris devant la psychologique morbide, 1872.

this was also a central idea to the development of conceptions of mental illness as hereditary or not, curable or not - and to the nosology of insanity itself. you can trace many contemporary parallels with those ideas, including with people wildly removed from its ideological origins. for example, note rhetoric concerning new technology leading to a progressive weakening of intellectual faculties, adults being inexorably made slower (through appeal to neuroscientific claims) by the use of (and especially "reliance" on) these technologies, a gradual disappearance of the will/attention span/capacity to resist satisfaction ("dopamine") or hedonism, etc.

The degenerate is not in a condition to fix his attention long, or indeed at all, on any subject, and is equally incapable of correctly grasping, ordering, or elaborating into ideas and judgments the impressions of the external world conveyed to his distracted consciousness by his defectively operating senses. It is easier and more convenient for him to allow his brain-centres to produce semi-lucid, nebulously blurred ideas and inchoate embryonic thoughts, and to surrender himself to the perpetual obfuscation of a boundless, aimless, and shoreless stream of fugitive ideas; and he rarely rouses himself to the painful attempt to check or counteract the capricious, and, as a rule, purely mechanical associations of ideas and succession of images, and bring under discipline the disorderly tumult of his fluid presentations.

Max Simon Nordau (1849-1923), Degeneration (transl. by George L. Mosse), 1892.

[therebefores]

                                                        JOSEPH

Joseph sorriu para o pedido de Lauren, saindo do telhado para fazer um truque de firebender simples, apenas estalando o indicador com o polegar para criar uma pequena chama. Muitos já consideravam os dobradores de fogo como os que mais gostavam de se exibir, e talvez fosse verdade mesmo, e Lauren não estava ajudando o seu caso. "E quando nós vamos nos mexer?" Ele questionou depois de acender o cigarro dela. Joseph crispou os lábios, sentindo vontade também, mas ele sabia que o desejo era por causa do tédio.

Gostava do que fazia e certamente entendia a necessidade de esperar pelo momento certo, mas às vezes queria deixar de lado toda aquela história de se posicionar e partir logo para a ação.

Realmente era exibido de vez em quando.

"Nós deveríamos ir logo." Joseph falou, observando o horizonte alaranjado. O vento estava mais forte, e o sol começava a se por. A mochila estava pesada e era uma lembrança do que deveria ser feito. "Veronica deve mandar o sinal daqui a pouco e vamos ter que correr." Quando os guardas estivessem distraídos com o sinal que a dobradora de terra mandaria, seria a vez deles de avançar.

"Joseph." Lauren suspirou. Sua visão era direcionada ao alvo à distância. O anfiteatro, lotado de militares, um grande filme iria estrear e para a sua organização outro espetaculo estava em mente. Seus olhos semicerrados encarando a distância davam a ilusão que a lider estava distraída, mas longe disso, atenta a tudo envolta, ela notou o jovem se aproximar do telhado da residência.

Retirou o cigarro da sua boca, terminando talvez o terceiro do dia. Poucos ousariam condená-la, mas era obvio o nervosismo. Não era o primeiro ato, longe disso, mas havia algo sobre fazer aquilo sem… Ela respirou fundo, virando-se para o outro.

"Veronica já esta em posição. Acredito que Zero e Lily já estejam infilitrados." Ela virou, não dando tempo para queJoseph sequer começasse alguma coisa que não fosse de extrema importância. "Acredito que você…" Pegou outro cigarro atrapalhando um pouco a sua fala e colocando entre seus lábios.

Seus dedos tremiam de leve tentando acender seu isqueiro, mas era claro que com o vento não iria funcionar. "Por favor?" Virou para ele com o cigarro nos lábios.

@therebefores

[nazrigar]

The Main Human Cast of my Transformers: All-Sparks AU

Shifting from the Cybertronian perspective of things, humans are also a vital part of my All-Sparks setting, especially once the conflict reaches Earth.

The AU takes place mostly in Jasper, Nevada. It's a little bigger than in TFP canon, but still tight knit. The story centers around two families, the O'Haras and the Darbys, all the while being observed by some friendly local secret agents supervised by the literal most powerful man on planet Earth.

The O'Haras

Shana, AKA Scarlett. The legendary former G.I.Joe herself, is a single mother doing her best to raise her only daughter, Sierra. She's powering through her own personal demons and working as a baseball coach in Memorial High School. For all her emotional baggage, she is still a formidable athlete and fighter. Haunted by nightmares of a "Silver Demon".

Sierra meanwhile, is an upbeat and assertive young woman who's the captain of her local cheer team. She has a strong interest in chemistry and engineering, and a enormous love of cars, especially how they tick. She does her best to be as supportive of her mom just as she is for her.

The Darbys

Jack Darby is a mostly directionless young man who works in KO Burger, and had his soul thoroughly sucked out of him via the horrors of the fast food history. It does mean whatever insults are thrown at him, he just doesn't care and shrugs. Sierra's boyfriend, and suprisingly affectionate when he can be. When push comes to shove, he is perceptive and resourceful.

June Darby is a doctor, and might just be a bit overworked but so long as she can help save lives and provide for her son and herself, it's all worth it. She is kind, patient but also firm and outspoken. She's a woman that's seen a lot in an emergency room, and has a resolve stronger than steel.

The Local Federal Agents

Agent William Fowler is a heavy set man with a strong sense of professionalism, but if he finds something off or a plan is stupid or dangerous, he'll cut to the chase and call it outright. His job is that as an inter-department liaison for multiple agencies and sections of government. A former Army Ranger with an additional skill in manned flight, in another life he would've been prime G.I. Joe material, but ultimately didn't make the cut.

Agent Seymour Simmons, representing that most secretive of departments, Sector 7, and a man with some very "interesting" ideas on the potential troubles man will be facing off in the future. After all, the long-deceased Cobra Commander was himself part snake-person. Anything can happen at this point, and Sector 7's is always on the case! One man, not-yet betrayed by the country he loves, but WILL step up as its last hope in its hour of need… eventually.

Joseph B. Colton, the Most Powerful Man on the Planet

The Legend. The First G.I. Joe. The Unbreakable Joe Colton, valor and courage incarnate. The man that crushed Cobra once and for all… and the real power within the United States government and the mastermind of security measures around the world. No administration was able to muscle him out of power, too beloved by the people, and just too damned good at his job. He commands the loyalty of servicemen active and retired, to the point many are loyal not to the President or Constitution, but to him. Joe Colton is a man that puts service, sacrifice and doing what must be done for the good of all above all else, having sacrificed so much for the good of his nation and the world… and has been witness to seeing his veterans, even former G.I.Joes, be "welcomed" to a nation that either doesn't care about them or offered mealy mouthed "thanks" for their service.

Years of administrating the U.S. government has made him a jaded man, and he has come to increasingly view civilians as greedy, ungrateful and never satisfied, voting against their best interests while always demanding more from him and his servicemen, without ever knowing what they actually want. Sometimes he wonders maybe… JUST maybe… this country, no, the world needs a massive overhaul… but hopefully it doesn't come to that…

When the Autobots eventually awaken on Earth, it is Joe Colton they'll have to work with... a heavy dose of caution.

[mariacallous]

Sede vacante. The Holy See is vacant.

Pope Francis, the first Latin American pontiff in history, died at age 88 on Monday at his residence in Vatican City. Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Argentina, he led the Catholic Church for 12 years.

Francis was hospitalized for 38 days in February for double pneumonia. His doctors later revealed that he had had two close brushes with death. Francis was discharged from the hospital a month ago and had made several public appearances since. Most notably, he attended the Vatican’s celebrations on Easter Sunday. “Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Easter,” Francis told the crowds, before being driven across St. Peter’s Square on the popemobile, waving at the faithful. In hindsight, it was a fitting send-off for a pontiff who had become the people’s pope.

At times like these, the ways of the Vatican can appear mysterious. What happens after a pope dies? Who governs the Holy See? And how is a pope elected? Most non-Catholics are probably trying to remember the plot of the 2024 movie Conclave right now.

All eyes are now on the camerlengo, or chamberlain, Cardinal Kevin Joseph Farrell. He will run the Holy See until a new Holy Father is elected. No time is wasted after the pope dies. His body is quickly embalmed and then put on display for three days in St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City.

Next comes the funeral, which also takes place in St. Peter’s Basilica or, if the weather permits, just outside, on St. Peter’s Square. The dean of the College of Cardinals always presides over the ceremony. Giovanni Battista Re, the current dean, has served in the Curia since the 1960s. If anyone knows how to compose a homily, it’s a man who has seen the deaths of multiple popes.

Since the beginning of the 20th century, popes have been buried in the ornate grottoes beneath St. Peter’s Basilica. But, in 2023, Francis decided to break with protocol. He will be interred in St. Mary Major, a basilica in the center of Rome, because of his “great devotion” to the Virgin Mary.

Although the official mourning period for the pope lasts nine days, the process for selecting a successor starts as soon as he has drawn his last breath. As the Italian proverb goes, morto un papa, se ne fa un altro. When a pope dies, another is made. In other words, not even the vicar of Christ is irreplaceable.

The new pope is chosen by conclave, the papal election dramatized in the hit film. It occurs roughly two weeks after the pope’s funeral. Only cardinals under the age of 80 can take part in it. This means that, out of a current total of 252 cardinals, 138 will pick the next leader of the Catholic Church—a global institution with more than 400,000 clergy members and 1.3 billion lay Catholics.

The conclave occurs in the Sistine Chapel, beneath a ceiling painted by Michelangelo. The doors are locked, and the cardinal electors can have no contact with the outside world. During this time, they are supposed to let the Holy Spirit guide their decision. Concretely speaking, it works like this: Cardinals are given a piece of paper with a header in Latin that reads simply, “I elect as supreme pontiff,” and they write down the name of their chosen candidate below.

To win, a candidate must secure a two-thirds majority. Until that happens, voting continues. Only one round is held on the first day of the conclave, but after that, up to four rounds can take place each day.

While the conclave is à huis clos, the outside world watches closely. The cardinals have only one way to communicate their progress: a chimney on St. Peter’s Square, connected to the Sistine Chapel. When a vote is inconclusive, the cardinals burn the ballots. In a separate furnace, they add chemicals to produce black smoke. When a pope has been elected, they burn the ballots one last time; this time, the smoke turns white. Habemus papam.

Conclaves vary in length. In 2013, Francis was elected after only 24 hours. By comparison, it took cardinals five days and 14 rounds to choose Pius XI in 1922.

Though the conclave is the final act in “making” a pope, what happens before matters, too. In the days leading up to it, the dean of the College of Cardinals convenes general congregations. All the cardinals, regardless of their age, take part. General congregations provide an opportunity to discuss the direction of the church and the qualities that the next pope should have.

The whole process is akin to politics, just swap the dark suits for bright red soutanes. “If history teaches us anything about papal conclaves, it is that the Holy Spirit is far from the only influence at play,” said Jessica Wärnberg, a historian who has conducted extensive research in Vatican archives and written a book on Rome and the popes, titled City of Echoes. She added that it has always been political. “Historically, major political powers, such as France and Spain, worked hard to sway voting. Today, factions are shaped along more ideological lines.”

But campaigning for the papacy is nothing like campaigning in a liberal democracy. For one, it’s very hush-hush. There are no leaflets or campaign ads. For another, cardinals eyeing the papacy are never open about their ambitions. Instead, they rely on allies to quietly drum up support. Subtlety is the mot d’ordre.

That’s not to say Vatican politicking isn’t ruthless. Think Game of Thrones but without the bloodshed. Various factions in the church push their champion. But if he isn’t able to garner enough support, a champion is ditched without mercy, no matter how preeminent he might be.

And, just as in Game of Thrones, it isn’t immediately clear who will win in the end. This is especially true of the upcoming conclave. “All bets are off when it comes to predicting who will succeed Francis,” said Philip Shenon, a former investigative reporter at the New York Times and the author of Jesus Wept, a new book on the modern church. “There’s no obvious front-runner.”

One reason why is that Francis completely overhauled the College of Cardinals. He appointed 110 out of the 138 cardinals who will vote in the conclave. That’s nearly 80 percent. The catch: Many of them come from far-flung corners of the world. They have spent little time together and therefore barely know one another.

Who wins is thus anyone’s guess. “It might be somebody very exotic, since many cardinals are from the other side of the world,” said Frédéric Martel, the author of In the Closet of the Vatican, an investigation into homosexuality in the church that draws on 1,500 interviews, including with prelates. “In fact, it might be a big surprise,” Martel added, “since nobody will have known of the sociology of the new conclave!”

This hasn’t stopped all of Rome from buzzing about the papabili, or the “pope-able.” For Martin Palmer, the CEO of FaithInvest, an NGO that works closely with the church, and a member of the Vatican COVID-19 Commission, the next pontiff will come from one of two factions within the church: He will belong either to “the right wing” in the United States and Africa or to the more liberal “Francis appointments” in Asia and Africa.

On the right, Palmer identifies Robert Sarah, a 79-year-old cardinal from Guinea, as a papabile. Sarah has long been in the mix to succeed Francis. A former prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, the Vatican department overseeing the Latin Church’s liturgy, he is the anti-Francis candidate.

A traditionalist heavyweight who doesn’t pull his punches, Sarah has echoed the white-nationalist Great Replacement conspiracy theory. Europe, he said in 2019, is at risk of being “invaded by foreigners, just as Rome has been invaded by barbarians.” As he sees it, the continent is locked in an existential battle with the Islamic faith. “If Europe disappears, and with it the priceless value of the Old Continent, Islam will invade the world, and we will completely change culture, anthropology, and moral vision.”

Without surprise, Sarah takes a hard line on homosexuality. He has slammed Francis’s decision to allow same-sex couples to receive sacraments. And he has likened “homosexual and abortion ideologies” to “Nazi-Fascism and communism.”

Another conservative contender, Palmer said, is Raymond Burke, a 76-year-old cardinal from the United States. Best known for his love of the cappa magna, Burke is as outspoken in his statements as in his fashion choices. He has repeatedly criticized Francis—so much so that the pope took away his subsidized Vatican apartment. The American papabile has close ties to the Make America Great Again movement. For many years, he was an ally of Steve Bannon until the two fell out. Still, Burke remains a power player in U.S. conservative Catholic circles.

In the age of Trump, however, that may be a liability. Palmer, who was recently at the Vatican, said that “the negative impact of Trump around the world has significantly cast a cloud over right-wing American rhetoric. Burke and by implication Sarah are seen as tainted by their association with Trump-style politics.”

As a consequence, a staunch conservative like Sarah or Burke may not have the numbers to win. “Sarah and Burke have zero chance—or as many chances as Trump to win the Eurovision,” Martel quipped. “They are ultra-right-wing and ultra-marginal figures. It’s a joke!”

Shenon put it more diplomatically. “Well, conservatives could try, and they probably will,” he said. “But when the doors to the Sistine Chapel are bolted shut, there just aren’t that many of them in the College of Cardinals—at least not enough of the rock-ribbed archconservatives who would vote for a candidate who would reverse Francis’s legacy.”

The next pontiff, Shenon predicts, will at least maintain some degree of continuity with Francis. “Whatever happens, it’s fair to assume that the next pope will not have a dramatically different vision of the church’s future,” Shenon said. He believes that the cardinal electors appointed by Francis “doubtless feel great loyalty to Francis’s progressive legacy.”

Among them, Shenon identifies Cardinal Pietro Parolin—the Holy See’s secretary of state since 2013—as an “obvious candidate.” The 70-year-old Italian prelate would respect the late pope’s agenda. He has said Francis’s reforms were “the action of the Spirit, [so] there can be no U-turn.” If the cardinal electors are looking for a safe pair of hands, someone who knows the Curia and can safeguard Francis’s achievements, then Parolin is their man.

In a similar vein, Martel points to Cardinal Matteo Zuppi, the 69-year-old archbishop of Bologna. Zuppi has Francis’s trust. Crucially, as the head of the Italian Episcopal Conference, he’s also popular with many prelates.

But if they want a bolder choice, then cardinal electors could go for the Ghanaian Cardinal Peter Turkson. The 76-year-old is the chancellor of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences and Social Sciences. He has long been ranked as a papabile, even though his star has dimmed after he fell out with Francis. But don’t count him out, said Palmer, who has worked with Turkson and thinks that “he really speaks for the engaged African Church.”

Palmer also thinks that Cardinal Luis Tagle, the former archbishop of Manila, has a serious chance. Hailed as the “Asian Francis,” Tagle is a progressive. He backed Francis in his drive to protect the environment and his plans for a more inclusive church. “My vision for a synodal church is a church that rediscovers this wonderful gift of the Spirit given to the whole church in Vatican II,” Tagle said in 2023, referring to the Second Vatican Council, which modernized the church in the 1960s and has been attacked by conservatives ever since.

The Filipino prelate has also taken a more compassionate approach to doctrinal matters, deploring the “harsh words that were used in the past to refer to gays and divorced and separated people, the unwed mothers, etc.”

At 67, Tagle is young by papal standards. Francis was elected at 76, Benedict XVI at 78. If he does become pope, then he would have the time to enact sweeping reforms. “In recent years, Francis has seemed pretty convinced his agenda—and the spirit of Vatican II—will survive his papacy,” Shenon said, “which is why he keeps insisting with a smile that his successor will call himself John XXIV.” John XXIII was the pope who initiated Vatican II. Tagle could well be the kind of successor Francis envisioned—perhaps even taking the name John XXIV.

If neither conservative nor liberal factions manage to win enough support among the cardinal electors, then a compromise candidate may emerge. “Historically speaking, divided conclaves have often favored ostensibly neutral candidates,” Wärnberg said. “A papabile with a lower public profile, such as the careful and erudite Cardinal Peter Erdo of Hungary or the reserved and pragmatic Cardinal Anders Arborelius of Sweden, could, therefore, emerge.”

In recent months, another ostensibly neutral prelate has shot up to the top of the papabili list: Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem. He’s Italian but has spent most of his career in Israel. This means that he isn’t associated with the Curia and remains something of a blank slate.

On many key issues, Pizzaballa has kept his cards close to his chest. And when he hasn’t, he has sent signals to both liberals and conservatives. With liberals, for instance, he backed Laudato Si, Francis’s 2015 encyclical on environmental justice. But Pizzaballa is also open to the Latin Mass, prized by conservatives. “The cardinal is very meticulous in liturgical celebration and has no problem with the traditional Mass,” David Neuhaus, a former patriarchal vicar for Hebrew-speaking Catholics in the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem, told National Catholic Register.

Despite being only 59, Pizzaballa has plenty of political experience. In 2014, he orchestrated the “peace prayer” in the Vatican Gardens, a landmark summit between Francis, then-Israeli President Shimon Peres, and Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas. Similarly, Pizzaballa has tried to strike a measured tone over the Gaza war, talking both about the horrors of the Oct. 7, 2023, massacres and the suffering of the Palestinian people.

Another compromise candidate could be the Canadian Cardinal Michael Czerny. “If the conclave is looking for a safe caretaker pope to ease the transition from the dynamism of Francis, Cardinal Czerny, the cardinal at the head of the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development, is also a possibility. Quiet, efficient, and running the Laudato Si Dicastery, it is his dicastery that will guide that most radical of encyclicals,” Palmer said. “But don’t expect the church to be quite so on message about climate or the environment post-Francis.”

Conclaves aren’t an exact science. With a few exceptions, they are notoriously difficult to predict. The papabili seldom get to sit on the throne of St. Peter. The Italians have a proverb to that effect. Chi entra papa in conclave, ne esce cardinale. He who enters the conclave as pope leaves it as cardinal.

[yourneighborhoodporg]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised 😂), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

[sheydmade]

Jewish Incantation Bowls:

by Keziah [sources, citations, and recommended reading can be found below the article]

Jewish witchcraft and Jewish magic (and the validity or existence thereof) are hotly debated topics within some pockets of Jewish community. With an ever-growing number of Jewish people incorporating witchcraft in their Jewish practice, there have been mixed responses from the Jewish public, and one argument commonly lobbed against practitioners of Jewish witchcraft and/or practitioners of witchcraft who happen to also be Jewish is that there simply isn't any such thing as Jewish witchcraft or Jewish magic and there never has been.

A bold claim, and one that simply isn't backed by historical and archaeological evidence. In fact, there are a great number of magical customs within Judaism - ceremonial magic, folk witchery, use of amulets, etc. - that are magical and can quite fairly be deemed witchcraft, the existences of which are proven, substantiated by archaeologists, historians, and scholars. One such magical custom is the Jewish incantation bowl.

With but a portion of incantation bowls officially registered as archaeological finds, kept in museums and universities, there are estimated to be thousands more bowls in private collections of antiquities around the world. Incantation bowls have been an invaluable source for studying the beliefs and customs of those who used them, and they provide a glimpse into the history of magic within Judaism.

'Beyond what these bowls tell us about Jewish magic, about what these communities were doing at the time, they answer bigger cultural and historical questions around inter-religious context. [...] This environment is far richer than anyone could imagine.' -Simcha Gross (The Story the Bowls Tell, Michele W. Berger)

What are incantation bowls?

Incantation bowls are a form of magic most commonly used to repel, trap, and/or bind demons, spirits, or malevolent entities, though bowls have also been discovered bearing inscriptions detailing curses, counter-curses, and even love spells.

'The incantation bowls belong, with few exceptions, to one very specialized form of magic. They spontaneously suggest the art of "bowl magic," which, in various forms, is spread over the world, and which has a straight genealogy from Joseph's drinking cup to the spinster's teacup of our own day.' -Professor James A. Montgomery (Aramaic Incantation Texts from Nippur)

They were first discovered by archaeologists in the mid-19th century. You'll also hear them called Babylonian incantation bowls, magic bowls, demon bowls, and even sometimes Moses bowls. Incantation bowls were used during Late Antiquity (3rd - 7th century CE, with the majority of the bowls hailing from the 5th-7th century) within the Near East, particularly throughout Mesopotamia.

Incantation bowl from Nippur inscribed in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, discovered 1888-1889 and photographed circa 1913; courtesy of the Pennsylvania University Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology

While incantation bowls are not exclusively Jewish, the majority of those discovered are — featuring depictions and/or descriptions of Jewish demons or spirits (though drawings are found only on some incantation bowls, not on all), invocations of Jewish angels, use of vowel permutation representing epithets of the Jewish g-d, and Jewish language, Hebrew square-script and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic in particular, a language most commonly identified with the Babylonian Talmud, the Targum Onkelos (the Aramaic translation of the Torah), and Gaonic (post-Talmudic) literature.

'In the mid-19th century, we begin to unearth incantation bowls that name the clients who purchase the bowl, their problems, their families. These people invoke various powerful forces and deities to resolve a variety of issues, offering a literary corpus that provides a new perspective.' -Simcha Gross (The Story the Bowls Tell, Michele W. Berger)

Much of our knowledge of Jewish incantation bowls comes from the study of surviving bowls from Babylon, the majority of which were uncovered in the Jewish diasporic settlement in Nippur, where nearly every home excavated was found to have incantation bowls buried in, around, or beneath them.

'...the number of bowls found in controlled archeological excavations does suffice to formulate some general conception of their geographical and chronological distribution and of the modes in which they were put to use, and the texts and drawings found upon the bowls themselves provide abundant information about the clients who ordered them, about the bowls’ aims, and about the cultural world of the scribes who produced them.' - Professor Gideon J. Bohak (Ancient Jewish Magic: A History)

'Hebrew bowl' of ceramic and ink, featuring images of at least one demon (possibly two demons, though James A. Montgomery suggested it could depict a demon and the sorcerer) surrounded by seven lines of Hebrew Aramaic text; courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology.

There are those who diminish the importance of incantation bowls not only in their archaeological significance but also in what they can reveal about Jewish custom in Late Antiquity, those who see their magical association as a mark of unsophistication. On this matter, Simcha Gross, assistant professor of Ancient Rabbinics in the Near Eastern Languages & Civilizations Department at the University of Pennsylvania, had this to say in The Story the Bowls Tell:

'We’re finally beginning to move past this idea that magic is strange, this separate domain of life. [...] We’re also beginning to better understand that previous ideas that assumed that the bowls represent the interest of a lower, popular, or non-elite class of Jews [...] simply do not hold; the bowls were a surface on which scribes from a range of social, educational, and religious background wrote incantations.' 

How were they made?

Ceramic incantation bowl uncovered in Nippur, featuring an image of a demon in chains surrounded by text in Aramaic, 400-700 CE; courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology &Anthropology.

The Babylonian incantations bowls were earthenware - ceramic or clay. The text and imagery were added to the surfaces of the bowls in ink. Many of the bowls are believed by archaeologists to have been wheel made. The bowls would likely have been commissioned, with scribes and/or magicians working to craft these bowls for paying customers. Inscriptions often included scriptural quotes, quotes from rabbinic texts, curses, counter-curses, spells, and listed epithets of g-d and/or names of angels, with some of the bowls also featuring figures introduced from other cultures through proximity of settlement, trade, and political or cultural impact.

'Some of the Aramaic incantation bowls contain deities, formulae, and spells whose origins go back to older Babylonian magic and religion.' -Professor Gideon J. Bohak (Ancient Jewish Magic: A History)

Discovered bowls have been of varying shape and size, so there seems to be no particular rules as to the depth or width an incantation bowl should be, though most of them have been repeatedly compared by experts to 'the size of the average cereal bowl.'

Ceramic incantation bowl uncovered in Nippur, 400-700 CE; courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology &Anthropology.

While some bowls may have been made specifically for the purpose of supernatural and magical protection, Professor Gideon J. Bohak suggests that plain bowls were also bought at market and taken to a scribe or magician, who went on to craft the magical work on the bowl they'd been given.

How did they work?

Incantation bowls can be described as a form of amulet. Amuletic magic has been used for means of protection throughout Jewish history and is discussed in the Talmud. The spells featured on most of the bowls are apotropaic — protective magic used to ward off evil, harm, or suffering. In the case of those incantation bowls intended to serve the purpose of protection, they're specifically designed to protect persons or households from evil or evil entities. They typically specify which demon or spirit they're intended to guard against, though they could also be used to protect against sorcery, illness, disease, evil eye, or general evils as well. The intended recipients of this supernatural protection are also almost always named in the spells.

Incantation bowls were commonly placed beneath homes or at the corners of homes, beneath specific rooms (such as bedrooms to ward off a nightmare-inducing demon), within courtyards, and even within cemeteries with the aim of protecting these areas from demonic or malevolent entities.

'When found in controlled excavations, the bowls are most commonly found in upside-down position (a fact which incidentally helped protect the texts and drawings, which are usually written on the bowls' inside) within the premises of a dwelling, or under the thresholds, or in a cemetery, or in a large group of bowls in one location (perhaps the atelier which produced them).' -Professor Gideon J. Bohak (Ancient Jewish Magic: A History)

It's said that by reading the text of the inscriptions, demons would become trapped. The demon or spirit would start reading from the outermost ring of text and move inward (the text was most commonly inscribed in a spiral pattern), and by the time they finished the text nearest the center of the bowl, they’d be trapped inside the vessel.

'The bowls were buried upside down under the floors of houses in strategic locations — under the door sills, in the corners of rooms— likely to protect against evil demons' -Richard Zettler, archaeologist and curator-in-charge of the Near East section at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology (The Story the Bowls Tell, Michele W. Berger)

'When placed upside down under each corner of a house, demons would follow the inscribed charms that spiraled from the outer rim inward, only to be caught in the center.' -Dr. John Charles Arnold (The Footprints of Michael the Archangel)

Other means of trapping demons by use of incantation bowl have been found. For example, there have been instances of two bowls having been glued or bound together, rim-to-rim, facing inward. Sometimes the space within the two bowls would contain items (Hilprecht notes broken eggshells being discovered within some) that served to further strengthen the protective properties of the work.

To protect against sorcery, evil eye, or malicious magic sent one's way, the bowls could be used either to trap the workings inside and strip them of their strength and power or to return the magic to its sender, redirecting any magical harm back to whomever performed or wished such magical works against you.

Not all incantation bowls served as means of protection. Indeed, some have been discovered to feature healing spells, curses, counter-curses, and, though rarely, love spells.

'Most of the inscriptions are of domestic character, being made out for a married couple, their children, their house, and their property, cattle, etc. Frequently it is the wife and mother who procures the charm, with or without reference to the husband. In many of the inscriptions there is special intention against the evils that disturb the domestic sexual life.' -Professor James A. Montgomery (Aramaic Incantation Texts from Nippur)

the Inscriptions

Many of the registered bowls, unfortunately, have partially or majorly ineligible inscriptions, due to damage, aging, fading of the ink, or the quality of the inscription. Some techniques, such as multispectral imaging, have been used in recent years to enhance the texts, which has helped with some of the difficulties researchers were previously facing in deciphering some of the bowls. Dedicated professionals and scholars, such as James A. Montgomery, are to thank for earlier knowledge on the inscriptions and what we can glean from them about the Jewish people's use of incantation bowls in Late Antiquity.

Incantation bowls were inscribed in a variety of languages. Less than half of all discovered bowls bear Mandaic or Syriac scripts, with a small handful of bowls having been inscribed in a form of Pahlavi script or in a form of Arabic. The overwhelming majority of discovered bowls, though, were inscribed in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, as showcased on far more than half of the published bowls.

The most common form of writing found on incantation bowls is Aramaic square-script.

'The bowls written in the square script [...] contain many biblical verses (usually cited in the Hebrew original, but sometimes in an Aramaic Targum) and many specifically Jewish terms, concepts, and stories; a few even cite passages from the rabbis’ Mishnah.' -Professor Gideon J. Bohak (Ancient Jewish Magic: A History)

Several of the bowls feature liturgical or scriptural references, as well as quotes from Jewish prayers. The use of scriptural quotes was (and still is) believed to evoke supernatural protection, and scholars say that the use of rabbinic texts on some bowls demonstrates that there was a belief that rabbinic texts are sacred enough to do the same. In fact, as Dr. Avigail Manekin-Bamberger points out in Naming Demons: The Aramaic Incantation Bowls and Gittin, one incantation bowl quotes Mishnah Zevahim 5:3, and in leading into that reference you'll find inscribed 'בשום' (meaning 'in the name of'). 'בשום' would typically be used when invoking divine forces such as deities or angels, and to use that term before quoting or citing a piece of text implies that the text itself has some level of supernatural power, enough to, in this case, grant one protection.

Not only were religious and rabbinic texts and references put to use in the inscriptions, but so were legal formulae and terminology. Some inscriptions are written up similar to contracts, establishing set rules as to what powers (with the intention of limiting said powers to render them useless) a demonic force, magical work, or ailment will have on a client, and doing so in a strict, legal tone.

The use of legal formulae also demonstrates the belief that the supernatural realm and its inhabitants were, at least to some extent, bound by the same laws and expectations as we are as natural, mortal beings. On this, Dr. Abigail Manekin-Bamberger says in Seder Mazikin: Law and Magic in Late Antique Jewish Society, "Just as there are expectations that humans will obey the human legal system and the systems of enforcement, so too one can subdue and restrain demons. Because the legal system is the central institution for dealing with infractions of the law on the human side, it is not surprising that this same system is used in the war against demons."

Some bowls feature extremely detailed inscriptions, naming those they're intended to protect, from whom the protection is needed, and the specific capabilities of said demon or curse that the client wishes to be prevent. One example of a wonderfully detailed incantation (used to protect a client and his wife from Lilitu, Liliths, or Lilith Demons) translation (by Professor James A. Montgomery) can be found below —

Hebrew bowl used to protect from Lilitu, courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology.

This the amulet of Ephrâ bar Šabôrdûch, wherein shall be salvation for this Ephrâ b. Š. and also for this Bahmandûch bath Samâ, that there be for them salvation, namely for this Ephrâ b. Š. and for this Bahmandûch b. Š. Amen, Amen, Selah. This is an amulet against the Liliths that haunt the house of this Ephrâ b. Š. and this Bahmandûch b. Š. I adjure you, all species of Liliths in respect to your posterity, which is begotten by Demons and Liliths to the children of light who go astray: Woe, who rebel and transgress against the proscription of their Lord; woe, from the blast fast-flying; woe, destroying; woe, oppressing with your foul wounds .... , who do violence and trample and scourge and mutilate and break and confuse and hobble and dissolve (the body) like water; woe, …. ; and where you stand, and where you stand (sic) fearful and affrighted are ye, bound to my ban, — who appear to mankind, to men in the likeness of women and to women in the likeness of men, and with mankind they lie by night and by day. With the formula, TWM Š'Š GŠ GŠK have I written against thee, evil Lilith, whatsoever name be thine. We have written. And his name shall save thee, Ephrâ, forever and ever.

As mentioned before, protection from demonic forces, such as the Lilitu specified and described in the above inscription, was a common purpose of the crafting or commissioning of incantation bowls. Lilitu are mentioned again, along with demons in general and some demonic epithets, in the bowl just below, for which the translation has also been included (as found in Montgomery's seminal work Aramaic Incatation Texts from Nippur.)

Hebrew bowl from Nippur of ceramic and ink, courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology &Anthropology; featured in Montgomery's Aramaic Incantations from Nippur (see below).

The text has been translated :

This bowl is designated for the sealing of the house and the wife and the children of Dinôi bar Ispandarmêd, that there remove from him the Tormentor and evil Dreams. The bowl I deposit and sink down, a work which has been made like that which Rab Jesus bar Peraḥia sat and wrote against them, — a ban-writ against all the Demons and Devils and Satans and Liliths and Latbe which are in the house of Dinôi b. I. Again, he wrote against them a ban-writ which is for all time, by the virtue of 'TMDG, Atâtôt Atôt, within T (?), Atôt Atôt the name, a writing within a writing. Through which (words) were subjected heaven and earth and the mountains; and through which the heights were commanded; and through which were fettered Arts, Demons and Devils and Satans and Liliths and Latbê; and through which he passed over from this world and climbed above you to the height (of heaven) and learned all counter-charms, a ruin into destruction, and [...] to bring you forth from the house of Dinôi b. I., and from all that is in his house, I have dismissed you by the ban-writ. And charmed and sealed and countersealed is it, even as ancient runes fail not, and (like) ancient men who are not. Again: charmed and sealed and countersealed is this ban-writ by the virtue of YHYHYHYHYH, THTH, THTH, A'. Amen, Amen, Selah. Sealed and protected are the house and dwelling of Dinôi b. I. from the Tormentor and evil Dreams and the Curse. And sealed and protected be his wife and son from the Tormentor and evil Dreams and Curse and Vows and .... Hallela, Amen.

The charms utilized on the above bowl are, as we learn from the translation, attributed to Rab Jesus bar Peraḥia, also referred to as Joshua ben Peraḥia on other incantation bowls, who was a magician and one of the Zugot, a scholar who received and handed down Jewish law and tradition.

'Several of the Nippur texts contain magical formulas worked in the name of Rabbi Joshua ben Perahia (Syriac, Rab Jesus bar P.), who is none other than one of the early Zugoth or Pairs who handed down the Tradition from the Great Synagogue to later ages. Whether this magical tradition concerning the venerable Joshua be authentic may be dubious; but the case is illustrative of the tendency in magic to appeal to ancient great masters of sorcery, and to use their names as though their full powers were possessed.' -Professor James A. Montgomery (Aramaic Incantation Texts from Nippur)

You'll find that a few rabbis feature, mentioned by name, on some of the other incantation bowls, either as clients who have commissioned the bowls themselves and seek their protective powers or as authors of the magical formulae put to work on the amulets. The latter of these two rabbinical groups were typically rabbis believed to have been magical workers themselves, to have harnessed some level of supernatural ability, and who were thought to be capable of the exorcising of and protection from demonic and evil forces.

And, as mentioned before (and as can only be expected), the invoking of divine names and epithets and the names of angels is also found within the incantations of the bowls, such as in the bowl translated (by Montgomery) below. Angelic names were commonly highlighted in some way, be that with an underscore, a line above the name, or the name circled, as you may notice within the inscription below.

Hebrew bowl from Nippur made of ceramic and ink; courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology.

Notice that this bowl also features text on its exterior side. The text is translated as follows:

Interior of the bowl -

Closed are the mouths of all races, legions and tongues from Bahmandûch bath Samâi. And the angel Raḥmiel and the angel Ḥabbiel and the angel Ḥanniniel, these angels, pity and love and compassionate and embrace Bahmandûch b. S. Before all the sons of Adam whom he begat by Eve, we will enter in before them; from their clothing they will clothe her and from their garments they will garb her, the garment of the grace of G-d. With her they will sit, on this side and on that, driving away (demons?), as is right. In the name of Yhwhin-Yah, El-El the great, the awful, whose word is panacea, this mystery is confirmed, made fast and sure forever and ever.

Exterior of the bowl -

Hark a voice in the mysteries! Hark the voice of [...], the voice of a woman, a virgin travailing and not bearing. Quickly be enamored, be enamored and come Ephrâ bar Šabôrdûch to the marrow of his house and to the marrow of Bahmandûch b. S. his wife; as (she was) a virgin (?) travailing and bearing not, so (may she be) fresh myrtle for crowns. Amen, Amen. And made fast and sure is salvation from Heaven for Bahmandûch b. S. A preparation (?) …. leaven, press it (?) …. Amen, Amen, Selah. Salvation and peace from Heaven, forever and ever and ever.

The above inscription is an example of incantation bowls not only being used as a means of protection against demons, with this bowl seeming to feature a charm for a woman to prevent barenness and encourage love from her husband toward her.

When incantation bowls feature imagery or drawings (these are almost always found at the center of the bowls, with the spiraling text leading inward toward these images), they commonly depict specific demons, who are often chained or bound in some way, demonstrating the aim of trapping the demon or rendering them powerless. Sometimes, depictions of the client themselves or the scribe or magician are featured on the bowl.

Some bowls also feature texts of an exorcistic nature, such as Psalms frequently used to expel demons or spirits. One unique formula of spell well-attested within published incantation bowls is that of an anti-demonic magical get (or bill of divorce). The writ of divorce would specify a separation from the demons or spirits that had become attached to an individual, their family, or their place of residence. Some such incantations specifically contain the words 'divorce document' or 'writ of divorce'.

One such bowl, translated by Dr. Dan Levene, reads:

This is a divorce writ for the Lilith that curses which I have written for Imi daughter of Qaqi and any name she has.  May you be healed, may you be protected, may you be saved ... from every evil strong powerful spirit, from active sorcerers, from spells of ZNY the singer prostitute, and the Lilith, and the curse, which is killing children that are hers, children of her (female) neighbor. That if you are permitted and have power over yourself (to be with) any person that you may desire, for I have written to you a deed of divorce, a writ of dismissal from this Imi daughter of Qaqi (and) any name that she has…

Incantation bowls seeking to provide supernatural protection to livestock would feature images of the animals one wanted to protect, and bowls crafted with the goal of protecting one from dangerous animals, such as certain snakes, would bear an image of said beast.

Some inscriptions bore renditions of word-triangles (a custom in Jewish magical praxis that came from Greko-Egyptian magical influence throughout Jewish regions). When featured on incantation bowls, they are written in straight line form, however, instead of in their usual triangular form. These would typically feature words (or vowel permutations) listing or describing an ailment or evil of some kind, with one letter being removed each time the word is written, until there is but one letter left, thereby symbolically removing or warding off the ailment or evil from whomever the spell is meant to protect.

'Hebrew bowl' of ceramic and ink; courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology & Anthropology.

The text on the bowl pictured above is described thusly in the University of Pennsylvania Museum catalogue, "This bowl was prepared to protect Abuna bar Geribta and Ibba bar Zawithai from a series of evil forces, and its writer drew his power from the garment of Hermes and the Creator of heaven and earth. He threatened the destructive forces with the curses of the Leviathan and Sodom and Gemorrah. The circular format of the text is normal for magic bowls, but the presence of an illustration is unusual, though not unique. The figures are not labelled, and their identities and purposes are not certain. J.A. Montgomery, who first published the Nippur bowls, suggested that the figure with the bound feet is a demon and that the other figure is the sorcerer."

The Importance of Incantation Bowls

'The study of Babylonian incantation bowls has occupied scholars since James Alan Montgomery’s publications of bowls from the region of Nippur in 1913. They have been of particular interest to scholars in recent years, both because the corpus contributes relatively new and unexploited sources for the study of ancient religion, and because the bowls provide access to harder-to-access and thus understudied realms of life, not least the fears and concerns of everyday people who worried about their physical safety, health, livelihoods, love interests, childbirth, and families.' -Sarit Kattan Gribetz (in her review of Seder Mazikin: Law and magic in Late Antique Jewish Society)

And the study of these bowls also serves as a boon to the study of early rabbinic literature:

'The texts written upon the bowls constitute the only Jewish epigraphic material that survives from Babylonia at the time of the editing of the Talmud (the earliest evidence of copied Talmudic texts are from the mid-eighth century), so they are of considerable importance to the study of rabbinic literature.' - Dr. Avigail Manekin-Bamberger (Naming Demons: The Aramaic Incantation Bowls and Gittin)

Indeed, the wonders and mysteries of incantation bowls are still being uncovered today by dedicated archaeologists, researchers and scholars, and experts in ancient languages of the Near East, and there are still many questions to be answered. One large-scale project is underway at the University of Pennsylvania, aiming to better study the inscriptions featured on the bowls in their collection, as well as to create an open database showcasing the published incantation bowls around the world, accessible to all who should wish to learn about the bowls and enjoy their many offerings to our understanding of Jewish magic as well as Jewish life in Late Antiquity. I, for one, am very much looking forward to the day such a monumental project is "completed."

The significance of these incantation bowls and similar relics of Jewish magic throughout history cannot be overstated. It is through studying such matters that we can better connect with and understand those who have gone before us, as well as, perhaps, renew customs and practices, many of which Jewish practitioners will likely find to be beautiful, comforting, and empowering, that were once a part of Jewish life that have sadly been forgotten by the majority of us.

If this piece, as verbose and perhaps overly detailed as it may be, can ignite for even just one reader an interest in the magical world of Jewish incantation bowls and the beautiful history told through them, then I feel I've done my bit, and all the books checked out, bought, repeatedly poured over, and painstakingly analyzed will have certainly been worth it.

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

'A Corpus of Magical Bowls: Incantation Texts in Jewish Aramaic from Late Antiquity' - Levene, Dan; Dr.

'Amulets and Magic Bowls: Aramaic Incantations of Late Antiquity' - Naveh, Joseph; Prof. & Shaked, Shaul; Prof.

'Ancient Jewish Magic: A History' - Bohak, Gideon J.; Prof.

'Aramaic Incantation Bowls' - Gordon, Cyrus H.; Dr.

'Aramaic Incantation Bowls in Museum Collections, Vol. I: the Frau Professor Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Antiquities' - Ford, James Nathan; Dr. & Morgenstern, Matthew; Prof.

'Aramaic Incantations from Nippur' - Montgomery, James A.; Prof.

'Corpus of Aramaic Incantation Bowls' - Isbell, Charles D.

'Divorcing Lilith: From the Babylonian Incantation Bowls to the Cairo Genizah' - Levene, Dan; Dr. & Bohak, Gideon; Prof.

'the Footprints of Michael the Archangel' - Arnold, John Charles; Dr.

'Incantation Bowls & Embodied Knowledge' - Dalton, Krista; Dr.

'Jewish Magic in Late Antiquity' - Schwarz, Michael D.; Dr.

'Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical, and Interpretive Perspectives' - Abusch, Tzvi; Dr. & van der Toorn, Karel; Prof.

'Naming Demons: the Aramaic Incantation Bowls and Gittin' - Manekin, Bamberger, Avigail; Dr.

'Seder Mazikin: Law and Magic in Late Antique Jewish Society' -Manekin-Bamberger, Abigail; Dr.

'the Story the Bowls Tell' - Berger, Michele W.

'Two Magic Bowls: New Incantation Texts from Nippur' - Obermann, Julian; Dr.

[salvadorbonaparte]

March 2025 in Films

My movie watching habit slowed down to a normal amount.

The Post-Truth World (2022) - A journalist is taken hostage by an escaped prisoner and tasked with solving the murder he was accused of. A film that asks relevant questions about truth and integrity of journalism and social media, but I honestly mostly zoned out looking at Joseph Chang.

Contagion (2011) - Eerily accurate, prophetic. Sure, they could draw on experiences with H1N1 and Sars/Mers but hoooly shit was that on point, including the natural remedies antivaxx thing.

M (1931) - The police, citizens and underworld of Berlin hunt a serial killer. Some absolutely amazing camera work, editing and acting, especially for the early 30s. For me, the most bizarre aspect was hearing the Haarmann song in the first scene, which is still creepily sung by children in my hometown nowadays.

Anderson (2014) - I had the honor to meet the director at a luncheon and screening of this documentary about Sascha Anderson, a poet in the underground avant-garde in the GDR, who turned out to be an informant for the Stasi. The camera work and editing was absolutely amazing. There were some very funny moments as well. I was especially impressed with the nuance and multiplicity of voices and the fact that they recreated an entire kitchen in a studio.

10+10 (2011) - An anthology of 5-minute short films and the definite who-is-who of Taiwanese cinema. There was a wide variety of topics and styles. All of the films were good, in the sense that you need to be very good at film making to make a 5-minute film work at all. Still, anthologies are always going to be hit or miss because you can't possibly like all of them equally.

Train to Busan (2016) - I'm trying to warm up to zombie movies, one of the subgenres I genuinely struggle with. This was absolutely terrifying, with great camera work and effects. The most devastating use of Aloha 'Oe in the history of cinema, perhaps.

Isa Pa, with Feelings (2019) - Fairly standard love story, but gorgeous cinematography, soundtrack and innovative subtitle use. My first film from the Philippines.

Planet of Snail (2011) - A South Korean documentary about an interabled couple. The film is very poetic, intimate, with closeups and extreme closeups, and centers their mundane, domestic life, creative endeavours, friends, jokes, struggles. It doesn't impose any sob-story or motivational angle from the outside.

28 Days Later (2002) - Proper Bri'ish zombie film innit?

Radiance (2017) - A film about an audio description writer falling in love with a blind photographer. Literally luminous and radiant and full of tenderness and human connection but also brutal, honest, harsh criticism. so watch out if you're sensitive to that.

[Rec] (2007) - A camera team follows firefighters on a seemingly routine call and ends up trapped in an apartment with Catholic zombies. Finally a found footage film I like. The last couple of minutes had me shaking with anxiety.

Assassination (2015) - A fun film about resistance and double agents during the Japanese occupation of Korea. My concentration span wasn't with me that day so that's the only thing I can say.

The King (2017) - The rise and fall and rise and fall of prosecutors in South Korea. Some really fun editing choices. Corruption, decadence, power, crime, style, politics, revenge, dance numbers and oh what's this? It's Jung Woo-sung with the steel wooden chair (he literally beats someone up with a chair)

Buzkashi! (2012) - A documentary about a unique Central Asian sport and its players in rural Tajikistan.

JeruZalem (2015) - A low-budget found footage demon zombie film set in Jerusalem and filmed through smart glasses. I could just about suspend my disbelief for the cgi zombie demons or the inclusion of a creepypasta image in the opening montage but the glasses were a little too much. Shout out to bargain bin Indiana Jones for hooking up with the protagonist and then immediately showing her a video of a priest doing an exorcism, failing, and then just shooting the possessed woman with a gun. That's definitely something you want to see during a holiday romance.

[cottonraincoat]

Amadeus 1984 : Mozart's Funeral

It is a striking scene, a powerful rendition of a staple of the Mozart myth. The body in a linen sack dumped into a common grave, while his own Requiem, the last few bars of music he ever wrote, played in the background. What's even more incredible is that it's also (almost) entirely accurate.

Specifically, the visuals (almost) completely agree with Joseph II's burial decrees, from 1784, frame by frame:

(long post warning)

"...every corpse... [shall] be carried or driven to the church and blessed with the usual prayers and music."

"Thereupon, however, it shall be conveyed by the priest without ceremony to an outlying cemetery for interment."

"Only [cemeteries] located at a suitable distance outside the cities may be used"

"For these cemeteries a sufficiently large plot of ground is to be chosen... When the ground has been selected it is to be marked with a cross."

"all bodies be sewn unclothed into linen sacks, placed in coffins, and so brought to the cemetery"

"In the cemetery a grave six feet deep and four feet wide shall be prepared, and each body removed from the coffin and placed in the grave still sewn into its linen sack." "If several bodies arrive at one time, they may all be placed in the same grave."

"It shall then be strewn with unslaked lime and immediately covered with earth."

"All coffins must be reused for other burials."

(so in conclusion, besides the fact that the hole in the ground was a bit bigger and had a few too many bodies in it and wasn't immediately covered with earth, the whole thing is remarkably accurate - down to Mozart's coffin being carried by four men in long cloaks) (though one might also argue that those missing details were the ones that contributed most to the "pauper's grave" myth)

(there is, of course, the point that by 1790 Joseph II no longer forbade bodies being buried in coffins, and Mozart most likely also had one, but that's a post for another day)

[adarkrainbow]

When looking at witches in fairytales, I formed a little space for the witch in "The maiden who seeks her brothers" fairytale, bird-subtype.

By this I mean the most famous take/type of this fairytale type, about a girl who discovers that her older brothers are now birds lost somewhere in the world, and she must undergo various trials to save them. While sometimes the transformation of the older brothers is due to something else entirely, quite frequently it is due to a witch being involved and setting a curse upon them.

The brothers Grimm made this story famous by collecting various takes on this tale: The Seven Ravens, The Six Swans, The Twelve Brothers. Andersen also wrote his own take on it, "The Wild Swans". Asbjornsen and Moe also made it popular thanks to their Norwegian version, "The Twelve Wild Ducks". In recent media the Storyteller TV show created its own variant, with The Three Ravens.

I see on the Internet people talk a LOT about "The Children of Lir" as the ancestor and predecessor of this story-type. Is it true that it was Joseph Jacobs who first highlighted the link between this Irish legend and the fairytale-type? I don't know, but the Internet LOVE the Children of Lir.

However I want to say: spare some love for the... I hate to say "actual", but clearly more direct ancestor to this story. The tale of the swan-children, from Dolopathos.

I was thinking back about this because right now I am reading a collection of medieval tales, and this story is within it. Checking out some articles, I see that Stith Thompson was apparently the one who most famously pointed it as the ancestor of the fairytale-type.

If you don't know, "Dolopathos" is a medieval romance (Latin/French) that forms a European variation of the "Seven Sages" book-type, and it contains this fascinating history of the swan-children which is... You know how often you discover that the literary ancestors of fairytales we know today actually compile many stories we think of today as separate? When you look back at Perrault or madame d'Aulnoy or Basile, etc, you see how fairytales used to be multi-parters and much longer, and they were broken into separate types and stories throughout time? Dolopathos' swan-children story is one of those.

The story begins with one of those stories of "A man forces an otherwordly woman to marry her by stealing an item of hers when she bathes" (you know, it is a story famous, be the woman a swan-maiden or a selkie). Then you have the sequence so recurring in various European fairytales of "The evil mother in law makes her son believe his wife gave birth to animals, so that the real children are on their own elsewhere and the mother is banished to live with animals and mistreated". THEN you finally get to the "Maiden who seeks her brothers" story, as the evil mother-in-law makes sure the kids are stuck in swan shape.

Reading this story after reading many variations of these fairytale type (especially in France), it makes sense why they are so often inter-connected and intertwined from region to region

[whencyclopedia]

Ancient Egyptian Medicine: Study & Practice

In Europe, in the 19th century CE, an interesting device began appearing in graveyards and cemeteries: the mortsafe. This was an iron cage erected over a grave to keep the body of the deceased safe from 'resurrectionists' - better known as body-snatchers. These men would dig up freshly interred corpses and deliver them, for cash, to doctors wishing to study anatomy. Dissection of a human being was illegal at the time, and until the Anatomy Act of 1832 CE, the only corpses a doctor could work with were those who had been executed for capital crimes.

These did not provide physicians with the number of corpses, nor the assortment of causes of death, they required to better understand anatomy, physiology, and pathology. Doctors recognized that the best way to treat a patient was to understand how the organs of the body worked together and what could affect them, but they were denied access. These physicians paid the resurrectionists large sums of money over the years for dead bodies and would most likely have been surprised or even amused to learn that, in ancient Egypt, the practice of dissection was routine but that no one in the medical field of the time thought to take advantage of it.

The ancient Egyptian embalmers did not discuss their work with the doctors of the time, and the doctors never seem to have given a thought to inquire of the embalmers. Physicians in Egypt healed their patients through spells, practical medical techniques, incantations, and the use of herbs and other naturally occurring substances. Their understanding of anatomy and physiology was weak because although Imhotep (c. 2667-2600 BCE) had argued that disease could be naturally occurring in his treatises, the prevailing understanding was that it was due to supernatural elements. A study of internal medicine, therefore, would have been considered a waste of time because sickness came to a person from external sources.

The Nature of Disease

Until the 19th century CE, the world had no understanding of germ theory. The work of Louis Pasteur, later confirmed by British surgeon Joseph Lister, proved that illness is caused by bacteria and steps can be taken to minimize one's risks. The ancient Egyptians, like every other civilization, had no such understanding. Disease was thought to be caused by the will of the gods (to punish sin or teach one a lesson), through the agency of an evil spirit or spirits, or brought on by the presence of a ghost.

Even in cases where a diagnosis suggested some definite physical cause for a problem, such as liver disease for example, this was still thought to have a supernatural origin. Egyptian medical texts recognize liver disease but not the function of the liver. In this same way, doctors understood the function of the uterus but not how it worked nor even its connection to the rest of a woman's body; they believed it was an organ with access to every other part of the body. The heart was considered the seat of intellect, emotion, and personality while the brain was believed to be useless, even though there are documented cases of brain surgery. It was understood that the heart was a pump and that veins and arteries moved blood through the body, and heart disease was diagnosed and treated by measures recognizable today (such as changing one's diet), but the root cause of the disease was still thought to come from supernatural agencies.

Continue reading...

[amadea-nachtmusik]

COMPREHENSIVE DESCRIPTION OF MOZART'S FUNERAL

The funeral of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, held on December 6, 1791, was a modest and somber event shaped by the social and economic circumstances of the time and the lack of resources available to his family.

PREPARATIONS AND ORGANIZATION

ECONOMIC CIRCUMSTANCES:

Mozart died leaving his family in a precarious financial situation. His wife, Constanze, had very little money to cover basic costs.

The funeral expenses amounted to 8 florins and 36 kreutzers, corresponding to the "third-class burial," a common and economical option for the Viennese middle class.

LOCATION AND DATE:

The funeral took place at St. Stephen’s Cathedral (Stephansdom) in Vienna.

A brief blessing ceremony was held in a side chapel of the north transept on December 6, 1791, the day after his death.

BURIAL DECISION:

Mozart was buried in St. Marx Cemetery (St. Marxer Friedhof), located on the outskirts of Vienna.

No individual grave was purchased; instead, he was interred in a communal grave, a standard practice for third-class burials.

THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL

WEATHER CONDITIONS:

The ceremony occurred during a snowstorm with heavy rain, making attendance difficult and prompting the few attendees to abandon the procession before reaching the burial site.

ATTENDEES:

Gottfried van Swieten: A close friend and patron of Mozart, known for supporting his career and organizing the funeral.

Franz Xaver Süssmayr: Mozart’s disciple and collaborator, who later completed the Requiem.

Antonio Salieri: Despite the controversial relationship often ascribed to him and Mozart, Salieri attended the funeral as a gesture of respect.

Joseph Deiner: A servant and close friend of the Mozart family who assisted with funeral preparations and provided accounts of the events.

Other musicians and close friends: The full list of attendees remains undocumented, but low attendance is attributed to the severe weather and the funeral customs of the period.

ST. MARX CEMETERY

COMMUNAL GRAVE:

Mozart was buried in a communal grave designed to hold 15 to 20 bodies, a typical arrangement for third-class burials.

These graves were reused approximately every 10 years, with remains relocated, which explains why Mozart’s exact resting place remains unknown.

LACK OF MARKER:

Mozart’s grave was not marked with a cross or a headstone, due to both the customs of the time and the family’s limited financial means.

ATTEMPTS TO LOCATE THE GRAVE:

Years later, Constanze Mozart attempted to locate her husband’s grave, but the original gravedigger was no longer employed, leaving the site unidentified.

SUBSEQUENT REACTIONS

PRESS REPORTS:

The Wiener Zeitung published a brief obituary, recognizing Mozart as a musical genius and lamenting the irreparable loss to the world of music.

A letter from Prague (dated December 12, 1791) highlighted Vienna’s negligence in appreciating Mozart’s talent during his lifetime, emphasizing that his death would make many realize his significance.

IMPACT ON THE FAMILY:

Constanze was profoundly affected by Mozart’s death. Initially bedridden with grief, she received assistance from Van Swieten, who helped organize a benefit concert. The proceeds allowed her to settle debts and secure a future for herself and her children.

HISTORICAL INTERPRETATION

Mozart’s funeral reflects the 18th-century Viennese burial customs, which rarely distinguished between social classes except for the nobility. While the event was understated, its historical significance is immense: it marked the end of a brilliant life and the beginning of an eternal musical legacy. The contrast between the modesty of his burial and the grandeur of his work remains a powerful symbol of a genius not fully recognized in his lifetime.

SOURCES

1. Otto Jahn – The Life of Mozart

2. H.C. Robbins Landon – Mozart: The Final Years

3. Christoph Wolff – Mozart’s Requiem: Historical and Analytical Studies

4. David Schroeder – Mozart's Death: A Corrective Look

5. Historical records from St. Marx Cemetery and St. Stephen’s Cathedral archives

Thank you Alex Rosas Navarro FB @Mozart Group

[grandhotelabyss]

What do you think of 2025 r*d sc*re (and ig heterodoxy’s regime turn more broadly idk)

To avow a political stance and therefore take responsibility for the exercise of power shows more honor than, for example, the dirtbag left ever has, who resentfully carp and sneer in their permanent exile. If Anna and Dasha had tried to appear aloof and above it all after Trump won, if they'd pled the case that they only supported him for the aesthetic, it would have been disreputable. They're not political pundits, though; they tend not to weigh policies on the merits or to think through their effects "dialectically," as their old comrades would say, or even to do what I do, which is to attempt an exhaustive and exhausting examination of my own divided loyalties and conflicting desires. They're just loyalists, which doesn't make for a good podcast, exacerbated by the paradoxically ultra-democratic un-democratic nature of new-right politics, where the Caesar figure is supposed to channel the will of his constituents directly, thus obviating any need on their part to question or cavil. (I could criticize the memecoins, but it's possible—probable!—we will all be shilling memecoins within five years.) Our heroines are also mismatched as types on this score: Anna is a true ideologue and moralist, Dasha an artist and ironist. Committed to truth and therefore able to lie, Anna said she hid her conservatism before, was only pretending to be a leftist, but now proclaims it openly; Dasha, on the other hand, is a chameleon poet, incapable of truth on that level, committed only to the higher or lower truth that is the emotional reality of time and place. She recently returned from the Caribbean saying "praise Jah," whereas Anna might have come back from the same trip with a distanced and acerbic political analysis. In that respect, Dasha is closer to the non-ideologue Trump, hence she said she voted for him but would not have voted for a generic Republican, whereas Anna said she would have voted for any Republican. Anna also recently conceded that truly winning against the left would be a disappointment because one would have to go back (I quote from memory) to "writing poems" and "going to parties," presumably non-ideological parties, since they do go to ideological ones, and non-ideological poems, too, since she could write political poetry if she pleased. (What's the MAGA version, I wonder, of "Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying"? MAGA's resident poet laureate, Joseph Massey, tends to write apolitical religion-and-nature lyrics in the Imagist style, not any kind of right-wing Brechtian satire or invective—Brecht, who was himself inspired by the right, by Kipling. But I digress.) Despite this admission, their podcast, to retain vitality, should return to its cultural roots and deal with the politics inter alia. Why did they review the dire Nosferatu, for example, other than as an excuse for their customary discourse on sex and gender, and not the much more Red-Scare-coded Anora and The Brutalist, films about which I am sure they would have had surprising and expert things to say?